


people always look better in the sun

by foxwins



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Unplanned Pregnancy, abortion cw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4424132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxwins/pseuds/foxwins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Not alone anymore,</i> she thinks. <i>Fuck.</i> Damn Eggsy and his cocky grin and sweet mouth and steady gaze. He's wormed his way so far into her life that she's seriously considering putting her whole future in jeopardy because he <i>deserves to know.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	people always look better in the sun

**Author's Note:**

> abortion cw pregnancy cw extreme angst disclaimer
> 
> imagine pre-commitment eggsy/roxy in a no strings attached friends-w-benefits thing

Resting her face on the cool surface, Roxy thinks about dead dogs and blanks and bullets, about hesitation and loyalty and the way Eggsy smiles when he kisses her.

 

She throws up, then glances down at the pink plus and throws up again.

 

Considering the how is a waste of space. Sure, they were careful, but things are never 100% certain. Something was bound to slip by. She just has to focus on the now, the what to do, the _oh god how am I going to tell him I can't tell him._ Her stomach churns, but there's nothing left.

_Just do it,_ she thinks. _Shoot the dog_. But this time her fingers are frozen, even as she watches her future slip away in front of her face with every second that ticks by.

_Shoot the dog, Lancelot. Shoot it._

 

Because Roxy is a goddamn professional, she closes her eyes, counts to three, and does not cry. Arms shaking, she pushes herself up. After flushing the evidence away, she washes her mouth out in the sink only to be greeted with her pale, hollow expression. She looks like shit. She feels like shit.

 

Shoot the dog and become a Kingsman. Give up a baby and stay one.

 

Not a baby, she reminds herself, just a clump of cells that just happens to share her and her lover's DNA, or whatever Eggsy was to her. A friend? Partner? Fuckbuddy? Father of her child? There are so many places for him in her life but he's not fitting in any of them anymore, not like he used to. Her brain scrambles for purchase.

 

_You can't tell him. He couldn't shoot JB, he would have tried to stop you from shooting Empress_. And then: _If anything, he's your teammate, your friend. He deserves to know. You have to tell him._

 

Eggsy was right there down the hall. It would be the easiest thing to drag him out for a moment and tell him, get it over with.

 

It would be even easier to turn around and call it a day, which is what she does.

 

* * *

 

Roxy knows that it's the right choice, knows despite every instinct in her brain screaming at her to handle it herself, to deal with it alone.

_You're not alone anymore, Rox._ She can hear Eggsy's voice echo in her mind, the way he would say it with those soft eyes and a hand on hers.

_Not alone anymore,_ she thinks. _Fuck_. Damn Eggsy and his cocky grin and sweet mouth and steady gaze. He's wormed his way so far into her life that she's seriously considering putting her whole future in jeopardy because he deserves to know.

 

"Shit," she mutters. "Shit shit shit shit."

 

* * *

 

"What is it, Roxy?" Eggsy's standing in her living room, usual expression fading into something bordering on concern. "Hey, is everythin' alright?"

 

Roxy twists her fingers, straightens her back, and says what she has to.

 

"I'm pregnant."

 

Eggsy's brows shoot up, eyes widening and mouth drifting open. Absurdly, Roxy has to squash the urge to laugh, hysteria burning in her lungs. He runs a hand through his hair and over his face, rubbing at his eyes.

 

"Shit," he says quietly. "Are you…" Roxy shakes her head tightly.

 

"Thursday," she says, almost challengingly, expecting him to object. As he tends to do, Eggsy defies her expectations.

 

"Okay," he says tiredly. "Okay, yeah. Do you want me to go with you?"

 

"No," she replies vehemently, immediately cringing at her tone. "No, I'm sorry Eggsy, it's not that-- Just let me do this, okay? I can handle it."

 

"Just because you can do it alone doesn't mean you have to, Rox."

 

"I have to do this. I'm sorry."

 

He shakes his head fiercely. "Don't be sorry, alright? Not your fault." He stands up and makes his away across the room towards her. Roxy's brain is screaming at her to move before he can get there, move and cut this whole conversation off, ask Eggsy to leave and sit in the kitchen cold and alone because alone is safe. Together is dangerous…

 

but Roxy's never been good at alone. And since she met Eggsy, she's managed to forget what it feels like. She's not really keen to remember. So when he approaches, she doesn't run, lets his hand rub soothingly over her shoulder. His touch is gentle and comforting, making Roxy want nothing more than to be there forever, her and Eggsy, quiet companions.

 

"D'ya want me to leave?" Roxy shakes her head. He nods his. "It's alright, Rox. Everythin' is gonna be fine."

 

"I know." And she does know, but only now, with Eggsy by her side, does she start to believe it.

 

(She doesn't cry. There's nothing to cry about. Her finger slips into the trigger and flicks the safety off, the _click_ of it as familiar as her own name.)

 

* * *

 

Empress's trusting brown eyes stare down the barrel of her gun, her trigger finger hesitates only the barest second before firing, the rush of relief as the realization that the gun was loaded with blanks comes.

 

"Ms. Thompson?" It's a few seconds before Roxy registers the name of her alias and stands up, imagines a clip full of bullets, and walks in.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Rox. How ya' doin'?" Eggsy's the same, all casual swagger, but the genuine concern poorly concealed on his face is wrenching. He's just come back from one of his rare missions without her, accompanied by Percival in her place. Roxy feels the wrench of every moment he had to spend away from her, knowing he had wanted to stay, the sweet idiot.

 

(That was the price of being a Kingsman, though. Sentiment didn't mean shit when a mission needed completing.)

 

"I'm fine, Eggs. Just a bit tired. Nothing funny though," she warns. He whines but seems placated by her calm tone. She must have reassured him of her wellbeing, and he's all too happy to drop the subject, flopping onto the couch besides her.

 

"Man, I am never workin' with bloody Percival again. He was your mentor and all, but the fuckin' things that man thinks he can get away with…" He's blabbing to fill the silence, to let her just sit quietly and listen. She's immeasurably glad for that, cause she doesn't really feel like talking but she could be there with Eggsy and his filthy London accent and his warm hands around hers forever. His hands squeeze hers and she nods encouragingly, closing her eyes.

 

Roxy lets his words wash over her, making her clean.

 

* * *

 

["Do you ever regret it?"

 

"No."

 

That's the truth. She doesn't. It makes her sad, sure, but if she had another go she'd do it again because it was the right choice, and even if she didn't want to admit it, the choice that she wanted as well.

 

Some things are possible. Some things you just have to let go.]

**Author's Note:**

> am I sorry? not really


End file.
